sbanks12
Quite thirsty am I. Thirsty for adventure, for people, for love. Without these, we are nothing. But ya know what? I could really just use a nice big glass of ice water right now.
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I will be leaving soon. Leaving my beloved home. The farm, my family, even the cats that I loathe. I mourn, yet I rejoice. Could this new phase of life be called a "zone"? Or must I be "in the zone" to enter into this new phase? How shall I cope? I am terrified and I already feel alone. But I will survive. I will thrive. Because God is my Savior and when I am weak, He makes me strong.
I have been in motion for so long. Today I was still. I breathed deeply. I thought deeply.
My mother is an incredible seamstress. Amazing. I will never be as good as her. And she will not live forever. So who will repair my children's clothes? I suppose I should learn. It would be an honor to sit beside a professional. I love my mother. I will learn to sew.
I feel as though I am drifting some days. In the ocean. All alone. People try to speak to me...I watch their lips move rhythmically, but I hear a foreign language. I do not know what I am supposed to do, who I should talk to, or where I should go. It's those drifting days when I just want to lie in bed and let the ocean of my mind toss my wandering thoughts around in my head.
38 days left. I graduate in 38 days! Can I make it? Will I last the entire duration of 38 whole entire days without killing anyone? I do no wish to hurt a single human being. They may just bring it on themselves though. Watch out! :)
I don't really like to try new things. "Gourmet" sounds fancy. I live on a farm. "Fancy" is not a part of my life and may never be. I am ok with simple. :)
I am a professional smiler. Smiler...is that a word? One who smiles? I love to smile! If you are missing a smile, I will share one of mine with you. :)
If you could make a visit to the petrifying basement of the place where I work, I know that you would understand. Every time I am asked to haul something down to the basement, I pretend to be brave and march down the stairs to find myself in the crepuscular, and cobweb filled dungeon. The generator roars as I whimper a greeting. The thick silence is almost unbearable as I hold my breath and make the journey to the end of the seemingly never-ending chamber. My eyes slowly adjust to the dim light while my brain tells me to beware of all objects large enough to conceal a person. I must remind myself to breathe. As I near the end, the light flickers. I run.
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